It's Never Easy To Say Goodbye
by Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway
Summary: <html><head></head>Fate is a terrible thing to tempt, especially on the eve of a three week mission to capture a band of wanted criminals. Kathryn Janeway learns that lesson the hard way. (This starts as a Kathryn Janeway / Mark Johnson story but is eventually a Janeway / Chakotay story, I promise.)</html>
1. Setting A Date

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in the Trek universe, though I wish I did. It's a travesty, I know.

**Author's Note: **This is a weird story, even for me. My muse slipped this plot bunny into my mind and I just couldn't bring myself to ignore it. This story disregards certain aspects of Jeri Taylor's 'Mosaic' (since I haven't read it all). According to Memory Alpha, Voyager was pulled into the Delta Quadrant on April 20th. Assuming that it took several days for the ship to reach the Badlands from DS9, I speculated on when the mission to capture the Maquis should have ended. I know I've probably fudged it but oh well. Thank you to Nova for the beta read, though I went in and fiddled with a few things after she looked over it for me so all mistakes are my own.

* * *

><p>The silence is comforting. She's lying on her side, pressed back against the solid form behind her and it's so peaceful that she doesn't want to leave. She doesn't have to, not yet, but tomorrow is going to be here soon and she's already missing him. His arm is over her waist, holding her close, and she can feel the steady beat of his heart against her back, soothing and calming her as it always does. She's excited for tomorrow, for the new step her career is taking and the exhilarating new adventure she's setting out on, but she'll miss him like she does every time she ships out on a new mission.<p>

It's always the same; she leaves for a few weeks, serving aboard a starship and happily doing her duty while he stays on Earth and teaches his classes at the university. He doesn't like space and she doesn't like feeling confined to one planet so they compromise, and they make it work. Her shore leaves are spent at their house in San Francisco and he always takes a long weekend so that they don't have to leave the bed except to make sure Molly has food and water. They've had a lot of time together lately, though, because of the fact that she's been transporting directly to Utopia Planitia to oversee the shakedown cruises and final touch-ups to her new ship. She's a captain now, something she's wanted for as long as she can remember; getting her fourth pip was the second most important moment of her life, topped only by his proposal.

"You're keeping me awake with all that thinking, Kath."

She grins and elbows him gently, knowing full well that he wasn't actually sleeping. Rolling to her back, she smiles up at him and kisses him lightly before running her finger down his jawline.

"Oh please._I'm_ keeping _you_ awake with thinking? That'll be the day," she teases, kissing him again when he opens his mouth to snark back. They hold each other tightly and she feels the moment slip from teasing to arousing in a heartbeat. She's been hyper-stimulated since the moment she walked through the front door and found him waiting for her, wearing nothing but a grin.

He turns and covers her with his body, pressing her into the mattress and she lets out a frustrated sigh at the lack of bodily contact between them. She needs him, wants him with an intensity that leaves her breathless and she kisses him hard again, wrapping her arms around his neck. Pulling him close as she tries to get him exactly where she wants him, she groans as he hinders her movements.

"Patience," he chides and she groans again, shaking her head as she bites at his shoulder.

"I need you," she breathes. "I'm leaving tomorrow for three whole weeks and I need you now so I don't forget you."

He makes her wait for an endless second and then slides into her waiting body, filling her as only he knows how. She whimpers softly at the feeling of him inside her, something she swears gets better each time. Her toes curl as he starts to move and she matches his pace, her hips rising up to meet his. She shifts just a little and his next slide pushes him deeper, making her shriek. Her climax takes her by surprise, throwing her body into intense spasms that pull him right over the edge with her. The warmth of his semen triggers her again and she whimpers as she peaks again.

He pulls her close, gathering her in his arms, and she trembles in the aftermath of her orgasms. Resting her head on his chest, she snuggles against his side and presses a soft kiss to his chest. She feels so safe in his arms, so content and loved, and she knows that the next three weeks are going to be hard.

"May ninth," she whispers into the dark, propping herself up on her elbow so she can see him. He looks down at her with a frown, obviously trying to follow her line of thinking.

"May ninth? For what?"

"Let's get married on May ninth. I'll get home the day before and we'll go to Admiral Paris on the ninth and have him marry us. My mom and your parents can meet us at his office."

"You're ready to set a date?" he asks and she hears the shock in his voice. In all the time they've dated and the years they've been engaged, she's always held back when it comes to setting a date for the wedding. She knows she's been scared, however irrationally, that something would happen when the date was chosen; it happened with Justin and she doesn't think she'd survive losing Hobbes. But she knows it's time to settle in and make the commitment, to show him that she's ready and that she loves him enough to fight her fear.

"I love you," she whispers, leaning down to kiss him. "I love you and I want to marry you. I'd do it tomorrow but Voyager leaves early and Owen's already stretched thin as it is."

"I love you too, Kath. So much," he says, wrapping his arms around her again and holding her tight. "May ninth it is."

She smiles and settles against his chest again, fighting her tears as she loses herself in the emotion of the moment.

_Three weeks_, she thinks. _Just three more weeks._


	2. Top Of The Chain

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in the Trek universe, though I wish I did. It's a travesty, I know.

**Author's Note: **My muse is in a feels-y mood, so be warned. I've always imagined what happened in the captain's ready room when she offered the role of XO to Chakotay, since we never saw it. I hope this works for y'all . . . I know this plot's been done before but I wanted to have a go at it too!

Thank you to Nova for the beta read, though I went in and fiddled with a few things after she looked over it for me so all mistakes are my own.

* * *

><p>She stands in the middle of her ready room and stares blankly at the viewport, at the alien stars that seem to mock her. She's in shock, now that the initial adrenaline of the situation is gone and she can't seem to find her proverbial footing in the onslaught of emotion. So she shuts down, her mind turbulent and her heart racing. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be a three week mission and the enormity of Voyager's predicament hangs over her head.<p>

They're lost in the Delta Quadrant, seventy five years from home.

She gave the order to destroy the Caretaker's array, destroying their hopes of getting back home. She couldn't let the Ocampa suffer at the hands of the Kazon, couldn't condemn an entire race just for the comfort of getting back to the Alpha Quadrant quickly. She's condemned her crew instead, forcing them into an unimaginable situation. She's taken away their families and friends, their safety, because she couldn't give the Kazon access to the array.

She can't even begin to fathom the journey they have ahead of them, only that life as they know it is over and things are very, very different now. There's no one to contact when things get rough - and she knows things are going to be hard as they make their way across the quadrant - and there's no one to help her when she faces a difficult decision. She's at the top of the chain of command and it's terrifying to realize that everything rests on her shoulders now. The buck stops with her and every decision, every life-and-death choice, comes down to her. This is her first command and she's _scared_.

The chime of her door stops her spiraling thoughts and she straightens, taking several deep breaths to calm herself enough to be presentable. She has to be controlled now, has to project a confident and determined front to her crew, and it's a struggle when all she wants to do is hide in her ready room and cry. Finding a kernel of peace is hard but she slips her expression into a cool mask and turns to the door, bidding her guest entry. She's pleased when her voice doesn't shake.

"Captain Janeway, you asked for me?"

Captain Chakotay, the leader of the Maquis cell she was sent after, is standing in the open doorway and Kathryn nods. Motioning for him to sit in the seat in front of her desk, she sits in her own chair and studies him. The Maquis are a problem, since they're on Voyager now because of their captain's willingness to sacrifice his own ship so that Voyager would survive. Kathryn's not quite sure to do with the Maquis; Tuvok pointed out that the ship lacked the resources needed to confine them to the brig for seventy-five years and Kathryn was appalled that he'd considered that option at all when he mentioned it. She lost a lot of good people, dedicated Starfleet officers, when the Caretaker pulled her ship into this quadrant and she knows that having the Maquis fill their empty places would solve a lot of problems.

"Captain?" Chakotay asks, bringing Kathryn back to the present. Sitting up and lacing her fingers together on her desk, she looks at him seriously.

"The Doctor informed me that you've been given a clean bill of health, Captain. How are you feeling?"

"A little sore, to be honest. It's nothing a good night's sleep won't fix," he says, smiling at her. The dimples that flash with his grin make her swallow hard and she nods, returning his smile with a tight one of her own.

"I'm glad to hear that, because we're in quite the predicament and I need you at your best. I have a problem, Captain, and I hope you can help me," she says, hating herself for the tremor she hears in her voice. Steeling herself, she looks him in the eye. "I lost too many people to make it home on my own. I don't have the crew and you don't have a ship, so it's my suggestion that we combine our crews and work together to get Voyager home."

He tugs on his ear and looks over at the viewport, his face reflecting her earlier pain. After a long moment of silence, he turns his attention back to her and she sees his answer on his face.

"Under one condition, Captain. I want my crew to get fair consideration for positions."

"I cannot, in good judgement, put the Maquis ahead of my Starfleet-trained crew, Captain. They've worked their entire careers for their positions and I can't just hand those positions over to the very people we were sent to capture," she says and then lifts a hand to stop him when he starts to speak. "But I will give them fair consideration for positions if they're willing to abide by Starfleet principles. This is a Federation starship, after all, and I'm a Starfleet captain running a Starfleet crew. If the Maquis are willing to wear the uniform and live the standards, I'm willing to put them in the running."

She watches him consider her offer and she swears she can see the wheels turning in his mind. After a moment of staring at her, he nods solemnly.

"I accept the conditions on behalf of my crew, Captain Janeway."

"Good, because I need a first officer and I believe you're the man for the job," she says and has to consciously stop herself from laughing at the look on his face. "I've read your file, Captain Chakotay, and I know your history. You were a well-respected Starfleet officer for many years and you've got the credentials to serve as my first officer."

"And keep the Maquis in line for you, too."

"That did cross my mind," she admits. "My first choice was Tuvok but I need someone I know the crew will respect and, quite honestly, I know the Maquis see Tuvok as a traitor. It'll take some adjustment on both sides, but I believe we can do this if we work together."

"I accept the position," he says. He stares at her, his dark eyes intense, and she forces herself not to look away from his speculating gaze. He smiles suddenly, nodding. "I suppose this means I'm being demoted, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she replies, the tightness in her chest easing as the first major hurdle is cleared. "You'll hold the provisional rank of Commander, and you'll have every responsibility and privilege included with that rank."

"Very well, Captain. But I have one more request, if I may? I'd like the Maquis to keep their rank bars. It's not much, and they'll adhere to uniform protocol in every other way, but I don't want them to forget who they are."

"Granted. Speak to Tuvok on your way out and he'll give you the list of quarters assigned to the Maquis. Your quarters are on deck three, next to mine, and you'll find the replicator is programmed with the uniform specifications. I'd like a list of positions you think the Maquis crew should fill and we'll discuss them later," she says, standing and extending her hand. He copies her and they shake hands, making her smile faintly. "Welcome aboard Voyager, Commander Chakotay."

When he leaves, Kathryn finds herself gritting her teeth and shaking her head. She's still unsure of how things are going to go and she doesn't expect everything to click into place immediately but she's anxious about the integration of the Maquis. She wanders up to stand in front of the viewport, a lump in her throat as she wraps her arms around herself and stares at the emptiness of space. Things aren't supposed to be like this and she's frightened.


	3. Flying Blind

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in the Trek universe, though I wish I did. It's a travesty, I know.

**Author's Note: **I don't know why my muse enjoys hurting me with these plotlines but she's cruel and I love passing on the feels. Here's the next chapter of _Goodbye _and I apologize in advance . . . This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are, as always, mine.

* * *

><p>Kathryn barely makes it back to her quarters before she completely loses it. She's just given the order to set a course for home, to start the daunting and life-long journey that they face, and she's such an emotional wreck that she's surprised she makes it to the solitude of her quarters in time and the tears, when they come, do nothing to ease the lump in her throat. Standing in the middle of the room, she lets herself grieve. This three week mission, an easy grab-and-bag, is suddenly the voyage of the damned and she's the one responsible for it all. She's the one who made the choice and knowing that destroying the array was the right thing to do doesn't make it any easier to swallow. She sinks to her knees and sobs, great wracking sobs that make her chest tight and her head hurt.<p>

She feels the nausea just before the dry heaving starts. She can't stand - her legs are like jelly and she knows they won't support her - so she crawls through her bedroom into the bathroom, making it to the toilet just as she starts to vomit. The emotional upheaval of the last few days is overwhelming and she doesn't know how to handle it. She can't do this, she doesn't know how to do this; this is her first command and the situation is so unprecedented that nothing like it was ever covered in command school. She has to rules to read, nothing to help her, and she's flying blind.

She lies on the bathroom floor for a long while, shaking and staring at the bulkhead in front of her. She thinks about Mark and about his reaction to the whole situation; Starfleet will, no doubt, inform him that Voyager's been lost. They'll send two officers to the front door of the house and they'll knock. When he answers, he'll know what they're there for. He'll know that they don't have good news and that something's happened to her; he's been around Starfleet for too long to not understand. He'll listen to them tell him that Voyager is gone but that the Fleet Admiral isn't giving up hope and that he's ordered a search team consisting of the finest scientists and investigators that the Federation has to offer, but she knows that he'll recognize the statements for the empty platitudes they are.

The chill of the floor seeps into her consciousness and Kathryn forces herself to move. Her joints are stiff and she realizes that she's been lying on the floor for far longer than she thought. Her body, still sore from being thrown around the bridge when the Caretaker's displacement beam brought her ship across the galaxy, protests as she gets to her feet. Moving slowly, she makes her way into her bedroom and sits heavily on the edge of the bed while she debates whether or not to get undressed. She decides against it and lies back, sprawling on top of her blankets as she stares at the ceiling. Tears blur her vision and she rolls to her side, tucking her legs up; she curls up and cries herself to sleep.

The next few days are among the hardest of her life; she wants nothing more than to lock herself away and grieve for everything she's lost but she's got a responsibility to get her crew home. And she knows, though it's never said in her presence, that everyone is grieving too. She feels the heated stares as she walks through the hallways, she hears the whispered conversations that stop the moment after she enters a room, and she knows that there's animosity from more than just the former Maquis. Not that she blames them, of course.

She meets with Commander Chakotay a week into their journey to discuss crew morale. She's kept a discreet eye on him to make sure he's settling in to his new role aboard the ship and she's been impressed by what she's seen; he's worked hard to help ease the tension between the Maquis and the Starfleet crew, something she appreciates. There've been a few minor skirmishes, petty fights over tables in the mess hall and who gets what bunk in shared quarters. The Commander's always resolved the problems quickly and she only knows about them because of the covert surveillance she's been performing.

"There's a lot of tension, honestly," the Commander says as they sit across from each other in her ready room. "The Maquis feel like they don't fit in and that the Starfleet crew isn't willing to accept them. I keep telling them that it's an adjustment for everyone and that things are going to be hard for a while but that it'll get better."

"I agree," she nods, her expression serious. "It _will_ take time but I worry that the resentment and hostility won't ease without serious intervention."

"I disagree, Captain. They just need time."

They come to a compromise, agreeing to let a few weeks pass before the problem gets addressed by the captain. They talk shop for another few minutes and then he leaves for an appointment in Sickbay to address crew-wide complaints about the brusque attitude from the Emergency Medical Hologram. Kathryn watches him leave and then makes her way up to the upper level of her ready room. She's used almost all of her replicator rations for the day on coffee but she doesn't really care; she'll brave the mess hall if she gets hungry enough, though she knows she has ration bars in her quarters.

The spot in front of the viewport is her "thinking spot" now and she stands there, cradling her coffee as she watches the stars streak by. She's got a meeting with Tuvok in twenty minutes and she needs to gather her thoughts before he comes to the ready room. She knows he's concerned about her, since they've been friends for years and he's eerily well-tuned to her thoughts, and her emotions are so tumultuous still. Tuvok always manages to see through her Captain's Mask; she makes a mental note to work on keeping the facade solid.


End file.
